rED LiNeS tO nowHErE
My eyes pleaded
My voice said it
My hands showed it
Why didn't you see?
The pain I was in,
the pain I was causing?
I needed your recognition
to show I was seen,
known, loved.

Trapped in a world
of darkness
I needed light
from an opening source
to show a way
a path
where pain was nothing
but a far away emotion
never to be felt.

But no door was opened
No sign shown to point the way
Lost like little red
never to find the end
of this lovely path I walked
alone for so long.

                 December 16, 1999
The Meaning
Freshman year, I scratched at my hands and arms when I felt low about myself or when I didn't want to cry. (I didn't like crying at that time, some weird reason) In this poem, I am describing how I felt when my mother didn't notice what I had done. She saw the marks on my hands, but thought they were some reaction to a new lotion; she had no idea they were scabs, or that they're now scars.
Hosted by www.Geocities.ws

1